


Traded My Burdens

by koanju (verstehen)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-25
Updated: 2012-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-22 08:23:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/607791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verstehen/pseuds/koanju
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their honeymoon -- if you could call it that -- would definitely be better without uninvited guests.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Traded My Burdens

**Author's Note:**

  * For [1001cranes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/1001cranes/gifts).



> Title taken from the Econoline Crush song "Affliction." Written for 1001cranes who loves fake marriage and at the time I started writing needed encouragement. I guess this sort of counts (what can I say? I'm a super slow writer 90 percent of the time!) Includes what I consider to be dubious consent (though I suspect others may disagree).

Stiles woke up to the feeling of lips and teeth on his neck. He slotted his eyes open and groaned at a nibble on his collarbone. “I was sleeping,” he muttered and met his husband’s blue eyes.

“I know,” Peter told him and bit again. “But I’m a morning person.”

“You’re kind of an asshole,” he said, tilting his head to give Peter more room. “It’s the weekend; I wanted to sleep in.”

“We don’t work normal jobs, Stiles,” Peter pointed out, still devoting his attention to the side of his neck. “You can sleep in anytime.”

Stiles poked Peter in the side with his thumb and dug his fingernail in. “It’s the principle of the thing.” He turned his head so he could get a good look at Peter and smiled.

As annoying as Peter’s morning person ways were, Stiles definitely wouldn’t trade them for the life he might have had before meeting the other man. He’d been a sophomore at Berkeley when he’d literally bumped into the other man on his way out of a coffee shop. They’d fallen down together in a collection of flailing limbs and Peter had caught him by the back of his head before Stiles ended up conking himself out on the floor. Peter had laughed and offered to buy him a new coffee. They’d ended up talking long enough Stiles missed the African History class he’d been taking at the time.

Peter smiled back. “But since you’re awake now…” He trailed off and Stiles laughed in spite of himself.

“You’re the worst.” He glanced over at the hotel’s clock and nodded. “Yeah, we’ve got time before we have to meet them.” He leaned up to press a quick kiss to Peter’s lips.

Peter pressed him down onto the bed and rocked his hips against Stiles’s. “ _I_ want to tie you to the bed and fuck you until you beg me to let you come.” He shuddered at Peter’s bald statement and shut his eyes; the last time he’d done that with Peter, he hadn’t been able to walk for a day.

“And if you do that,” he said, breathless and half-hard just from the memories, “we’ll miss our meeting. There goes our reputation.”

“I hate when you use logic against me. It’s very arousing.”

Stiles laughed and pushed Peter away, making sure to rub his left hand against Peter’s shoulder so he’d feel the cool metal of the ring he was wearing. “Later. We’ve got a meeting. Isn’t this the last of the group?”

Peter let himself be pushed away with a sigh. “It should be. When we finish, we can discuss if we want to go further.”

“Hey, just because we’re finished taking care of the people who burned your family to the ground,” Stiles started, levering himself up so he was resting on his elbows. “You’re not safe. There’s more people out there.”

“That’s part of being a werewolf.” Peter slid a hand through Stiles’s hair. “But that drive to protect is one of my favorite things about you.”

“You totally wanted to put a ring on it,” he teased and Peter laughed, grabbing Stiles’s left hand to press a kiss to the metal there.

“I think I did.”

He snorted and slid out of bed, away from Peter, and made his way to the bathroom, scratching his fingers through his stomach hair. “Order some breakfast for us, will you?” Before he could enter Peter was standing behind him, wrapping his arms around Stiles’s waist and mimicking Stiles’s own scratching with his longer claws. Stiles leaned back against him and let Peter take his weight as he turned his head for a kiss. He could spend all day kissing Peter; fast, slow, biting his mouth, even cutting his tongue on Peter’s fangs when he shifted. It was always amazing and this kiss was no exception.

Even so, he pulled away and smiled lazily. “We’ll finish business here,” he decided. “Then we’ll take a vacation. Go someplace with a great view and have amazing sexcapades.” He nipped at Peter’s ear. “Then maybe we talk about what to do next. There’s a lot of people who hunt things out there and I think we’re getting pretty good at stopping them.”

They had a good system and Stiles couldn’t even be weirded out about that. Objectively, he knew he should be. If you looked at Peter and him from an outside perspective… Well, it looked like the fallen Sheriff’s trouble-making son goes to college, meets an older man, is manipulated into falling in love and becomes the older man’s partner in a killing rampage across the country. Stiles is pretty sure he saw an episode of Criminal Minds just like that once.

On the inside, though… It was more the dead Sheriff’s trouble-making son goes to college, meets an older man, is attacked by a deranged hunter while out on what had been a great date with the older man, finds out the older man is a werewolf, discovers the older man’s family had been slaughtered by hunters like the deranged asshole who’d tried to kill Stiles, and then decides to help the older man who proposes as soon as Stiles offers to help Peter hunt down the people responsible for the loss of thirteen people his husband had loved and continued to try and kill both his husband and himself.

Yeah.

But both of them were aware of what they were doing and took pains to be careful. They’d tracked down four of the five people directly responsible for the fire and today they were going to meet with number five. Stiles had posed as a gun buyer who’d heard through the internet underground that the guy sold  _special_  weapons in addition to the ones he sold under his legitimate business as gun dealer.

“Where do you want to go?” Peter asked, nuzzling his neck. “For our vacation.”

Stiles shrugged. “I don’t know. Until I’d met you, I’d never even been out of California before. Someplace with a great view and some privacy. There’s things I want to do to you that aren’t fit for anyone else’s eyes,” he teased. Peter wasn’t an exhibitionist, not really, but when he got in a mood he just didn’t care where they were at all.

Peter’s eyes flare at that and he smiled. “I’ll find us someplace then. I suppose we deserve a honeymoon.”

Stiles laughed and stepped out of his arms. “Now, really, I’m going to shower and I need to eat before we confront Argent. He seemed to be the head honcho so this is our best chance to make sure we didn’t miss anyone.” He paused and gave his husband a sly look. “Not to mention getting a chance to peek at his contacts.”

Peter nodded and reached over to run a hand through Stiles’s close-cropped hair. “I knew you were something amazing from the moment I saw you.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “Even when I spilled hot coffee all over you and then almost knocked myself out on a table?”

“Even then.” Peter leaned in for a kiss, more chaste than the last.  It was a quick and simple press of lips before he pulled back. Then he smacked Stiles’s rear and grinned. “Hurry up. I want to shower too. We’ll both need to be on the top of our game to deal with this one.”

“Careful, I think I’ll like it better when we keep the spankings on the bed.” He relished the hungry look on Peter’s face as he stepped fully into the bathroom and shut the door behind him. They hadn’t tried spankings before but… Stiles had a feeling it’d be fun to explore, especially with Peter’s werewolf healing. Not that he was planning on telling Peter who Stiles was picturing getting spanked – at least not yet.

With an eye on getting some quality food and maybe even a last minute check on his information about Argent, Stiles hurried his time in the bathroom, just ignoring his half-hard cock as he showered.

Fifteen minutes later, showered and freshly dressed, he wandered back out to the bedroom. “Food?”

Peter waved at the phone. “They said it’d be about a half hour. By the time I get out, it’ll be here. I told them to put it on the room.” He brushed past Stiles on his way to the bathroom, dropping a quick peck on his cheek. He made sure to enjoy the view before grabbing his laptop from the desk where it was charging and making himself comfortable in the nearby chair.

He’d intended to actually review the information on Argent he’d gone over but instead found himself browsing Wikileaks. He was really expecting one day for werewolves and anything else supernatural to show up on the site one day. He’d had vigorous mental debates about how that might go after discovering werewolves were actually real.

A sharp knock to the door startled him out of his musings and he got up to grab the room service. Rather than the bellman he expected with a heaping tray of food, there was a black-haired man a few years older than Stiles standing in front of him. He frowned, taking in the guy’s leather jacket and bushy eyebrows. “Wrong room, man.” He moved to shut the door but the guy shoves his arm in the way, scowling.

“Stiles, what the hell are you doing here? You disappeared!”

…and this wasn’t good. Somebody he didn’t know, who looked like his muscles had muscles, knew his name and was trying to force his way into their hotel room.

Stiles acted on instinct and training (both his dad and Peter) and kicked the guy in the balls, slamming the door shut even as he called for Peter. He listened for the sounds of the bathroom door slamming open, nodded toward his husband, and went to grab his gun from the suitcase he’d stashed it in. “He knows me,” Stiles said softly and watched Peter take a deep breath before smiling.

“Well, well,” Peter said and Stiles had a sense he wasn’t talking to him. “That’s interesting.” His focus snapped back to where Stiles was standing back, gun pointed at the door. “Let me take care of this one.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Yeah, okay,” Stiles said sarcastically. “No! I’m not letting you tackle some strange guy without back-up.”

The man beat on the door. “I can hear you in there, Peter!”

“Werewolf?” Stiles mouthed slowly, making sure not to say it aloud. Peter smirked at him and nodded before moving to the door. Stiles raised the gun; he knew the regular ammo wouldn’t  _really_  hurt the strange werewolf but it’d slow him down enough for Peter to get the upper hand.

He swung the door open easily and the man stepped in, giving Stiles – and his gun – a strange look. “What are you  _doing,_ Stiles?”

“Don’t talk to me,” Stiles snapped, not taking his eyes off the man nor moving the gun.

“Yes, Derek,” Peter said, smiling easily. The expression on his face was a surprise because Stiles wasn’t used to seeing that outside of the bedroom. “Talk to  _me._ Why are you here?”

“You’ve been killing people. Again.” The man – Derek, presumably – had a higher voice than Stiles really expected given his surly looks.

“Only hunters connected to the people who killed our family,” Peter said easily, obviously unconcerned they were caught out. Which sucked because Peter was smarter than that and he knew Stiles’s dad was a cop and –

“Wait,  _our family_?” He shot a hard look at Peter. “I thought they were all dead. You told me your entire family had been killed, Peter.”

“What the hell, Stiles?” Derek frowned at him, his lips turning down severely and his eyebrows rising. “You know what happened.”

“Uh, no. I don’t. All I know is that,” he sent his most fierce glare at Peter, one he’d learned from his dad. “My husband’s apparently been lying about his past.”

“ _Husband_?” Derek sounded incredulous. “You married  _Peter_? You hated Peter, Stiles!”

“What the fuck are you talking about? I don’t even know you, dude!”

Derek’s eyes glowed alpha red, bright and dangerous, and he inched closer to Peter. “What did you do to him?” The words were strangely calm as Derek’s face filled with anger – at Peter.

“Stiles?” Peter laughed and ran a hand up Stiles’s back, using his knuckles to trace up his spine. “All I did was show him how extraordinary he is.” He tilted his head to smile at Stiles. “And yes, I did – technically – lie to you when I neglected to mention Derek. However, it was only through Derek’s admittedly unwitting assistance that our family was burnt.” Out of the corner of his eye, Stiles watched Derek flinch at that, the red flickering out of his eyes, but he didn’t break his one-sided stare down with Peter.

Adjusting his grip so he was holding the gun steadily trained on Derek’s chest with one hand, Stiles briefly touched Peter’s wrist. “In that case, I can see how you wouldn’t want to talk about it.” Refocusing his attention on Derek, Stiles said, “But doesn’t address the question of why the hell you’re here.”

“I came to take care of Peter,” was the answer he got and Stiles sighed, glancing over at Peter.

“Your choice; he’s your nephew.”

Peter laughed at the shocked look on Derek’s face. “What are you  _doing,_  Stiles? Why are you here, with Peter? Your dad and Scott have been looking for you for the last month.”

He blinked at the other man. “You’re a really bad liar. Or just delusional. My dad’s dead and I don’t know anyone named Scott.”

The way Derek’s mouth dropped open briefly before he turned a really disgruntled look at Peter was fairly unattractive. “You’re not an alpha,” he said, sounding shocked. Stiles bumped Peter gently with his hip, a silent demand for an explanation of what the  _fuck_  was going on. Also, a request not to be ignored. Stiles had a sinking feeling he was the subject of the conversation between Peter and his nephew and the one thing Stiles really hated was being ignored. Or talked about like he wasn’t there. His parents had used to do it, when his mom was just getting sick, not realizing or not thinking Stiles would be able to pick up the gist of the conversations. Since then, he started to associate conversations about him while he was standing right there with, well, death.

From the pissed off expression on Derek’s face, Stiles wouldn’t be surprised if this conversation was about death too.

“I’m afraid you’ve got some catching up to do,” Peter told Derek, flexing his claws easily.

Then he did something Stiles had never, in the sixteen months he’d known Peter, seen his husband do. Peter stepped between Stiles and Derek, putting Stiles firmly at his back and even disrupting Stiles’s line of sight. Peter had  _never_ put himself between Stiles and danger, even after they’d gone on their manhunt. Peter just wasn’t that sort of man for all that being a werewolf made him more durable and it was one of the things Stiles liked best about him. He was there to help and they’d work through anything together; Peter never tried to keep him out of things.

Of course, until today he’d never thought Peter would lie to him either. They’d went on a  _killing spree_  together. What else could there possibly be to lie about after you kill people with the love of your life?

He studied Derek Hale over Peter’s shoulder and scowled because the answer was apparently living relatives who researched Stiles to find his weak spots like his dad’s death to – he didn’t even know  _what_ Derek was trying to do here, other than let them know he knew about the deaths.

“I can kill you again,” Derek’s voice was quiet and his attention was fixed on Peter solely. “Both for continuing to kill people and for what I’m sure you did to Stiles.”

“Since when do  _you_  care what happens to humans?” Peter laughed roughly. The sound was bitter and horrible and instantly reminded Stiles of the way his father had sounded at his mother’s funeral. Stiles swallowed hard and dropped his free hand on Peter’s shoulder, squeezing his support, and finally understood why Peter had cut him out. Whatever was going on had to do with  _family_. “That’s your weakness, remember, Derek? You never understood how important humans can be and your naivety turned our home, our family, and  _me_ into ashes.”

Just because this needed to happen for Peter didn’t mean Stiles was going to just let it go completely. And they were definitely going to talk about that “kill again” comment. “Why don’t you just tell us why you’re here and then get the fuck out?” he suggested, stepping right into Peter’s back. He figured a little PDA might freak Derek out given how shocked he’d seemed at the idea of Peter getting married. Unless that had been a show. Still, spooning Peter and wrapping his arm around Peter’s waist had the nice side effect of both showing affection and giving Stiles a clear shot should he need to take one.

Derek shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket and met Stiles’s gaze. “He’s lying to you, Stiles. Alphas can take, remove, and manipulate memories. He’s done it to you.”

Stiles had to laugh at the accusation. “Yeah, right. Let’s see, trust the absolute stranger or the guy I married.” He rested his chin on Peter’s shoulder and could feel Peter’s cheeks move as he smiled. “That’s an easy choice.”

“You’ve known me since you were sixteen, Stiles. Your dad is alive. I could call him now and you could talk to him since you’re not going to believe me.”

“For someone who’s apparently known me five years, you don’t know me very well. Toy voice distorters, phone apps, holding your nose, even a towel over the receiver. It’s easy to fix a voice,” Stiles told him sharply.

“Not the things the voice  _says_ ,” Derek pointed out, sounding exasperated as he made a very good point. 

“Except a lot of information is public record and the internet makes it easy.” His voice wasn’t as strong with that retort and Peter leaned his weight against Stiles, anchoring him in the present. Because a part of him, the part that missed his father desperately, wanted it to be true so he could talk to his dad.

But dead was dead and Peter knew that better than most. Stiles dropped a quick kiss to the side of his neck and rubbed his thumb into Peter’s stomach. 

“I trust Peter,” Stiles repeated and raised the gun to Derek. “So if you don’t have anything useful to say, get the fuck out. We have a lunch meeting.”

Derek’s shoulders straightened and his jaw clenched, everything about him coiled with tension and Stiles was half afraid he was going to have to shoot him. Instead he flashed his eyes at Peter and turned back to the door. “This isn’t over.”

“Don’t worry, Derek.” Peter’s voice was smooth and even with a dirty kind of glee. “Stiles and I will always be ready for you.”

As soon as the door was shut behind Derek, Peter grabbed Stiles. He squawked as Peter picked him up and  _threw_ him onto the bed. “You didn’t listen to him at all!” He could barely get the words out he was laughing so hard.

“Well,  _duh_.” Stiles rolled his eyes as he propped himself up on his elbows to look at Peter, bent over with giggles next to the bed. “You’re my husband.”

“You didn’t listen to a single word!”

He raised his eyebrows at Peter. “I repeat: total stranger.” He pointed to the door before moving his finger to poke Peter in the side. “Husband.” 

“Oh, Stiles, you are a  _gift_.” Peter climbed onto the bed, straddling Stiles, even while chuckling. “You love me so much you don’t even care if it’s true.”

He slid his arms around Peter’s waist, flicking the safety back on and tossing the gun aside. “You're a morning person; I already knew you were evil. Yeah,” he mused softly. “I kinda do.” 


End file.
